


Work Safety

by Lieju



Category: Gaston (Bande Dessinée)
Genre: M/M, Not Really That Explicit, gaston being NSFW in a different way than usual, old crack, someone's getting blown rather than blown up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 12:03:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8013061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lieju/pseuds/Lieju
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr. Demesmaeker pays a visit to the office. Will these contracts get signed this time?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Work Safety

Demesmaeker was feeling good today.

He had had a good lunch in the nearby little restaurant, and felt like taking a small walk, breathing the brisk autumn air, enjoying the scenery.

So good was his mood that he decided to make a slight change in his plans, and head to Spirou offices few hours early.

He congratulated himself on the idea; this way the nutjobs over there would be unprepared for his arrival, and hopefully unable to launch their assaults full of crazy to sabotage the business negotiations.

Yes, this was a great idea.

He burst into the offices. “Mr. Prunelle! The contracts!”

Said man lifted his head, his eyes widening in surprise. And perhaps horror. But Mesmaeker was feeling charitable today, so he’d give him the benefit of a doubt.

Even after the first words from his mouth were: “The door! It was locked! He _told_ me it was locked!”

Demesmaeker waved the doorknob in his hand. “This broke. If this is how you take care of your building-“

“Nonono! Please, don’t go! We were just expecting you later, that’s all.”

Demesmaeker frowned at the man staying seated at his desk. So he wasn’t even feeling like standing up and welcoming him properly?

Prunelle gestured towards the chair in front of him. “Please, sit down.”

Demesmaeker did so. He couldn’t help noticing the other man was looking a bit odd. He seemed out of breath, maybe he was ill? It wouldn’t be the first time there had been some exotic killer disease going around this madhouse some people called an office. “Are you well?”

“Yes!” he almost yelped. “I-I’m just feeling a bit under the weather, please sign the contracts, quickly.”

“Hmph. You don’t need to tell me twice. I want to get out of this place as soon as possible.”

“Mmmmh. I can understand that. This is neither the _time_ or _place_ for any foolish unnecessary things.”

Demesmaeker glanced around, suddenly suspicious. “That walking disaster-area isn’t here, is he?”

“Nonono- rogntudmmh-” He coughed, adding credence to the whole ‘killer disease’ hypothesis. “ He is occupied at the moment, don’t worry about him.”

“Good.” Demesmaeker took the contract out of his suitcase. “This is a fun little contract I came up with just yesterday.”

“Sign it. Please?”

Demesmaeker shook his pen. “It seems like my pen is all dried up. Do you have a pen?”

“I’m sure I can come up with something.” Prunelle stumbled for something to write with.

“Here.” He presented a pencil from somewhere under the table.

Demesmaeker inspected it, suspicious. “Is a pencil really fine? And is this a _kid’s_ pencil? What’s this yellow ape-like thing with a freakishly long tail?”

“It’s something someone left here. Sign if you’d be so good?”

Demesmaeker tried to find some space on the table the other man was almost hunched over.

“Here, it’s-“ However, he spoke too soon, as Prunelle kicked the table, messing up his signature.

“Sorry, a musclecramp! But look, you can erase it and write it again! The good side of pencils!”

At this point Demesmaeker had almost had enough. But he was having a good day today. Or had been, until he entered this cursed building. He erased the signature, wondering why Prunelle was muttering under his breath. It almost sounded like “No teeth.”

“Here.” He stood up, offering his hand to his business partner.

Who seemed happy to just stay sitting down. The truth dawned on him.

“I get what’s going on here!”

“What? I assure you, it’s NOT what it seems like!”

“I can see that you have no interest in even pretending to be polite!”

He ripped the contracts in half. “So, you’re too good to even stand up to greet me!? Well, then, I better get rid of these contracts that aren’t even worth common courtesy! Good bye!”

And with that he marched out. And the man didn’t even try to run after him!

 

* * *

 

“Is he gone?” Came a voice under the table.

Prunelle was feeling too tired to even get mad. “He is gone. And gone are the contracts, too!”

Gaston crawled from underneath the desk. “And here I thought that would help you relax a bit. No need to thank me or anything.”

“I clearly signaled you to stop! I kicked you on the ribs, didn’t I? And wipe your mouth, that’s disgusting.” He spotted what the other man was about to do. “Not on your sleeve. Here, use this!”

Gaston took the tissue. “I thought that meant you were enjoying it.” He grinned. “You certainly seemed to.”

Prunelle blushed a pretty shade of red.

Gaston was beginning to learn how to differentiate between different shades of red (and occasional green) of Léon Prunelle. This was a bit different from the pure anger he displayed when being mad at someone (usually Gaston), and something he had managed to coax out rather often these days.

Not that it was as good as the other, slighter blush he had unfortunately missed from his place under the table.

 


End file.
